


The Old Songs, Sung Again

by Helenadorf



Category: Transformers: Victory
Genre: Canon Immigrant, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Open Marriage, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenadorf/pseuds/Helenadorf
Summary: Long before Deathsaurus became the new Decepticon Emperor, Megatron had put an elite hit squad into stasis on Charr. With Star Saber coming ever closer to defeating him, and with the malicious incompetence of Leozack becoming more and more grating on his nerves, Deathsaurus seeks out the DJD and recruits Tarn on a trial basis. What he finds of Tarn as a person is something unexpected indeed...Written for Tarnsaurus Week 2019.
Relationships: Deathsaurus/Tarn
Comments: 21
Kudos: 75





	1. Mask / Wings

**Author's Note:**

> EYYY I'M HOSTING A SHIPPING WEEK AND IT'S TARNSAURUS
> 
> So, if the premise of the description didn't clarify: this fic takes place in G1/Victory continuity, not IDW. So I'm importing Tarn/the DJD to G1, and I don't know if anyone else had thought of that, but it certainly hadn't come up in regards to Deathsaurus/Victory-- which, honestly, it's perfect. Deathsaurus is the goddamn *emperor* in Victory, Tarn's going to be super into it.
> 
> With the import will come some character/backstory changes, and those will be clear as the week goes along. Also because this is G1/Victory and not IDW, this does mean violence will be anime-level only, rather than, well. DJD. Also because I'm going to be sparing myself a lot of pain and avoiding fight scenes at all costs for once.
> 
> As for the anime/manga continuity, it's basically anime continuity with manga aspects, ie; Lyzack and Esmeral and Solon. Not that I don't like the manga, but the anime is much more of a proper story-- which also means that this is somewhat a replacement/continuation of the anime either before or replacing the anime's series finale.
> 
> Also because this is something I only managed to start on a week and a half before now, it's not my best work. But it's something!
> 
> Enjoy!

**MASK**

The barren wasteland of Charr stretched out for miles beneath the Thunder Arrow’s shadow. Only the moons and the stars brought light to the abandoned and desolate Decepticon City, built in the times of Galvatron, left to rot the moment Galvatron had met his end. The ruins were completely wrung out of old supplies, leaving only the crumbling remains themselves to be seen.

Deathsaurus hadn’t come here for the same reason Galvatron had. His Empire wasn’t in so sorry a state that the Decepticons once again had to lie in pathetic exile, scrounging for scraps and meager drips of energon. No— there was something very specific he’d come here for.

Since the planet was abandoned, many rumours and frightening stories had emerged from the inherent eeriness that ruined cities brought. Stories of the lingering traces of the Hate Plague soaking into the cracked earth, or the restless souls of the Old Decepticons looming in the shadows. (Starscream’s ghost was the most common story told.)

But when Kakuryu asked, Goryu told the story Deathsaurus had in mind: the story of the Decepticon Justice Division.

“It’s this squad of hitmen that Megatron commissioned. They had some nasty weapons, stuff like built-in grinders and smelters and all kinds of terrible things. But— nobody knows if it was ‘cause they got bored of Autobots and started attacking other Decepticons for fun, or if Megatron himself got threatened by them— they were locked up deep underground and put in stasis.”

“The story I heard was that they rejected Galvatron when he appeared on Charr,” Doryu added. “And tried to kill _him_ for ‘impersonating’ Megatron.”

“No, no, I think they were imprisoned sooner than that,” Yokuryu said. “I think Starscream ordered it, so that they wouldn’t oppose his rule.”

“That’s so scary!” Kakuryu exclaimed. “Is that true?”

“The Emperor seems to think so,” Leozack said. “They’re what we’re here to find.”

The Thunder Arrow landed in the middle of the abandoned city, and his crew filed out— Leozack, and the Dinoforce. The rest of the Breastforce were temporarily under the command of Esmeral and Lyzack on Earth until Deathsaurus could return with his intended prize.

Deathsaurus transformed into his beast mode and activated his sensor suite. For the most part, there was little to smell and little to scan. He _knew_ it was there— he’d managed to get confirmation from Soundwave, although the spymaster had by this point retired as the last vestiges of the earliest Decepticons’ rule. So he kept looking regardless, and told his people to do the same.

The last time _anyone_ had been on Charr had been when the Dinoforce were born. Deathsaurus had picked them up as a fledgling commander, and wouldn’t be passed command of the Breastforce until Sixshot’s defection. Overlord had tried to force Deathsaurus to take the planet as a base, but he’d refused to be undignified with a worthless planet of scrap metal.

Just as well that Overlord had been defeated, just like every other past Decepticon leader. Now Deathsaurus stood as their most powerful, and their only leader. But even still, he couldn’t forget that the leaders of old had left some hidden gems in the most unlikely places.

He finally found something in the depths of one of the old factories. At first, he’d not noticed it, but eventually he realized there was a small draft beneath the primary assembly line. It would have been easy to dismiss as being from outside through the broken walls if the air wasn’t so still and stale on this planet, and secondly, if the breeze weren’t from _beneath_ him.

Deathsaurus pawed at the floor until one of the tiles came loose. Underneath, he could see the top corner of a hatch. Grinning to himself, he activated his comms: “Decepticons, to me. I’ve found them.”

The hatch lead to a dark tunnel. The black abyss audibly yawned musky air, blowing dust into the open. Deathsaurus transformed back into his robot mode and activated his low-light vision, peering further down beyond the stairs. Or rather, he tried— the descent was too far to see past the staircase. If this was where the DJD were indeed buried, Megatron— or whomever had decided to waste the resources to lock away powerful Decepticons like these— had buried them deeply.

Kakuryu could only look at the tunnel from over Goryu’s shoulder, just barely peeking his visor into view. “It’s so dark down there,” he whimpered. Glancing around at his fellows, he asked: “So who’s supposed to go down there first?”

Deathsaurus scoffed. “There’s nothing down there but Decepticons in stasis. Follow me.”

Leozack was the first to obey that command, though Deathsaurus could smell the anxiety off of him. Him _and_ the Dinoforce, not that it was a surprise— he was sure that the Decepticons that had facilitated the latters’ creation had loaded them up with scary stories to teach them obedience. Not that it had entirely worked on Goryu.

And as for Leozack… Considering his conspiratorial nature, Deathsaurus wouldn’t be surprised if the DJD would be the thing that finally killed Leozack’s ambitions for good. Second-in-command or not, and regardless of his leadership over the Breastforce, if the DJD were as powerful as they were said to be, Leozack would be a fool to challenge them.

In particular, as they walked through the facility, Deathsaurus decided to tell a bit more of the story.

“Have you heard the stories about the _leader_ of the Decepticon Justice Division in particular, Goryu?” Deathsaurus asked.

Goryu made a face and shook his head. “Er, can’t say I have, sir.”

“There’s something that makes him very special indeed.” Deathsaurus made note of the very faint smell of long-extinguished embers within the door they were passing and moved on. “His name is Tarn. His signature is the mask he wears on his face— a mask in the shape of the Decepticon symbol. He has weapons not unlike Megatron’s, except _more_. A double cannon, a tank alt mode with unmatched firepower. But he doesn’t need any of that to kill.”

“H-he doesn’t?”

Deathsaurus grinned a little. “They say all he has to do to kill his enemies is to get in close and whisper to them. Weaponized Conversation, the legend says; a gentle tone brings the victim to their knees. A soft murmur paralyzes them in place. And when his voice drops so low that he’s barely audible, their spark fizzles out like a candle in the wind.”

He could hear Goryu shudder, and the rest of the Dinoforce letting out muffled whines of fear.

“That’s an exact quote from the report you got from Soundwave, isn’t it?” Leozack asked.

“Yeah. And speaking of which… we’re here.”

_Here_ was a lone door at the very end of the hallway, an ominous red glow surrounding its frame and the keypad on the right side. Deathsaurus pulled up a note as he inputted the password. One of the lights, which were _supposed_ to have come on when they first arrived, flickered and sparked overhead. Deathsaurus paid it no mind as it startled half of the Dinoforce.

Beyond that door was finally revealed the chamber in which the Decepticon Justice Division’s leader lay in stasis, in a pod at the far back of the room. The main lights still failed to illuminate, but the machines assuring life support and inducing the mech’s coma were alive and thrumming. They provided the only visibility in the room, leaving only the mech shrouded by fogged glass to be seen.

Kakuryu slowly approached the pod, uttering a very small “Hello…?” as he padded up to it. He reached up and wiped the fog off of the glass, to be greeted with vibrant red eyes peering through a Decepticon mask.

He yelped and scrambled back. “H-he’s awake!” He cried.

“Not yet, he isn’t.” Deathsaurus got a look for himself, wiping away more of the fog.

The mask itself provided the glow. Deathsaurus could see, if he looked very closely, that Tarn’s eyes behind them were closed. There was a hint of bare circuitry on one side of his face; powerful tank treads composed his shoulders, and his biolights smouldered with the colour of energon. Oh, he looked every inch the killer Deathsaurus was promised.

He couldn’t wait to meet him.

“Leozack, deactivate the stasis pod and release him,” Deathsaurus ordered.

Leozack did as he was told, although there was a moment of pause before Deathsaurus heard the tapping of keys and switches. The temperature within the pod regulated as the stasis fluid drained out of it with a loud rumble, revealing Tarn completely. At Tarn’s sides, Deathsaurus could see his clawed hands twitch.

Only a fool would have a single plan in mind to reach his end goal. Reactivating his fortress would always be Deathsaurus’ priority, but when it came to killing Star Saber, he couldn’t rely on such a thing. No— ideally, he needed Star Saber dead _before_ he reactivated his fortress. After all, the Autobots alone couldn’t stop him from draining Earth of its energy.

But for that, it was clear that his current army was insufficient. Leozack and the Breastforce had failed time and time again, and that was no longer acceptable; especially now that God Ginrai had been upgraded into Victory Leo. Greatshot had grown in rank amongst the Autobots. Deathsaurus needed an elite force of his own to match them, if not tear them down into their components.

There were many tales of old that suggested potential fixes— rumours of Unicron’s decapitated head whispering promises, for example. But none of them wore so much promise as the DJD, to Deathsaurus’ mind. Not only were so many stories easily falsified and exaggerated, but they could have a terrible consequence. He wasn’t stupid enough to risk himself on a whim. The DJD were a safe, yet worthy, investment.

The DJD were powerful, but they could also be handled. Especially if he only woke Tarn up first. Get him in line… and then let the rest of the DJD follow Tarn into loyalty.

And the thought of Star Saber’s last breath, stolen from his vents by nothing more than a whisper… Deathsaurus placed his hopes eagerly on the one in the mask.

* * *

**WINGS**

Tarn’s systems were slow to come online. At first, he dared wonder if he was dreaming again— of waking up in this hellish facility, him and his DJD freed by (insert failure on the part of Starscream, drones, Autobots, etc. here…) and allowed to live again. In these dreams, he was never quite decided on whether his first target would be Megatron for locking him away, or Optimus Prime for being the cause of it. Time melted his imagination into colours and sounds over a span of time he couldn’t begin to be sure of.

His only solid memories at this point were those of his imprisonment to begin with: of the triple-changers pushing him and his DJD along, each DJD member being shoved into a separate room within the facility. Vos… Tesarus… Helex, and then Kaon. Tarn himself was saved for last, and although Starscream wanted the _pleasure_ of putting Tarn away, Megatron had refused him.

Tarn had dared to beg, even as his consciousness slipped away from him and he fell fast into a forced coma: _Please, Megatron, forgive me. I won’t do it again, I promise you! Please, release me!_

His first affirmation that he wasn’t dreaming came when he was awash in a terrible cold. His body had acclimated to the stasis fluid and now that it was gone, he found himself shivering. Opening his eyes, he knew for sure that he was awake when he saw a face he didn’t recognize— with four vivid red eyes, two of them mounted on a beaked helm. Who was this?

Before his body had regained control of itself, the stasis pod slid open with an exhaust of cold smoke. No longer held in place, Tarn fell and stumbled out of the pod— and into the arms of the stranger. As Tarn’s vision flooded momentarily with distressed static, he grew aware of something large and warm being wrapped around his shoulders.

He didn’t register what it was— instead, Tarn raised his head and glowered at the frightened Decepticons in the room. One, a jet at the controls— the other five a batch of beastformers who scrambled away from his glare and huddled together.

“Welcome back, Tarn,” his benefactor purred into his audial.

Tarn felt more of his systems return to life. The mech helped him to his feet, and Tarn realized that the warmth he was enclosed in was that mech’s wing. Another beastformer, he guessed, but he couldn’t imagine what sort of creature he transformed into. Some sort of dragon?

He found his voxcoder slowest of all to return. Tarn slowly raised a hand to his throat, delicately running his fingers across the cables that held up his head. He wanted to ask who he had to thank for his revival— but his mouth couldn’t form the words.

“Ah. Still rebooting, are you?” the beastformer asked. “I’m sure you’re very confused.”

Tarn turned his eyes towards him. Unlike his (apparent) underlings, this person showed no fear towards Tarn. Rather, instead, he appeared _delighted_ to see him. He had large fangs, sharp teeth… teeth like a violent predator. Yet, Tarn dared not pull away, because there was something very _alluring_ about him as well.

It might have been the strength with which he was able to help Tarn remain upright. Or it might have been the warmth of that wing shielding him from the cold of the stasis fluid.

“I am Deathsaurus,” the beastformer said, “the Emperor of Destruction and leader of the Decepticons.”

That seemed to help Tarn recalibrate. His first thought was _that’s impossible_ — but then he remembered, he had no way of knowing how long he had been out. Was it likely, then, that he had been gone so long that everything had changed?

He found his voxcoder and forced it to work. “And Megatron…?”

“Is dead.” Deathsaurus grinned as he gave this revelation. “The Decepticon leadership has changed hands a few times since his day, and now it belongs to me.”

_Dead._

Tarn had no idea what to feel about that, not after he had spent so long removed from the war, from _everything_ , at Megatron’s decision; all because Starscream had convinced him that Tarn and the DJD were a threat to his goals. His passing dreams about potential revenge fell flat when he realized that they would only prove Starscream’s accusations correct, when Tarn wanted neither control nor authority. He wanted to _serve_.

Tarn’s loyalties were to the Decepticon Cause and to that before all else. Megatron had never been convinced. Looking into Deathsaurus’ eyes, Tarn saw none of that hesitation nor distrust.

If Deathsaurus was indeed now the leader of the Decepticons, did that mean that he saw use for Tarn, enough to bring him out of stasis?

He found that his body was more willing to respond to him now, aided by his benefactor. Tarn supported himself on his own feet, steadily removing himself from Deathsaurus’ grasp— much as he didn’t want to leave the shelter of his wing, he didn’t dare appear weak in front of the new leader. Deathsaurus allowed it, though remaining close and seeming pleased.

“If that is the case… I thank you, my Lord, for freeing me.” Tarn gave Deathsaurus a respectful bow. “What of the rest of my Justice Division?”

Deathsaurus grinned wider before answering the question. “It’s been a long time that you’ve been out, Tarn. I want you on board on a trial basis— if you’re exactly as you were rumoured to be, we’ll gladly come back to restore the rest of your DJD. Else— well, to be clear, I don’t expect there to _be_ an _else_. Your Weaponized Conversation is based on _fact_ , is it not?”

Tarn’s eyes brightened their glow. “Of course. Do you need me to demonstrate?”

The gaggle of beastformers screamed and clung to one another in a pile. The jet at the controls visibly stiffened.

Deathsaurus laughed.

“Oh, I won’t have you demonstrate on these ones. Not unless they get _uppity_ , of course.” Deathsaurus shot a look at the jet in particular upon saying this before turning back to Tarn. “I’m bringing you back to Earth with me, and I’d like you to demonstrate on the current Autobot leader.”

“I assume… if Megatron is no longer among us, then Optimus Prime has also died?”

“That’s right. These days, the Autobots are lead by my nemesis, Supreme Commander Star Saber.”

Tarn had not heard the name before. It piqued his interest— who could possibly match up to the likes of Optimus, enough to rise in the ranks and take his place? Megatron’s fall, Tarn could understand completely… but Optimus’ fall, somehow, felt more of a surprise. He’d always seemed so _infallible_ , and that had been exactly what Tarn had hated about him.

Of course, if Optimus was no longer his enemy, slain by someone else, then that meant Tarn had much more of a chance of making a _full_ demonstration of his power on this Star Saber. He said as much to Deathsaurus: “Only Optimus has survived my voice at its full power. I almost fear you will lack use for me quickly, my Lord.”

“Oh, you are _something_ , indeed.” Deathsaurus patted Tarn on the shoulders, giving attention to his cowering Decepticons before giving the order to return to their ship. He told Tarn: “Come, I’d like to speak with you along the way to Earth. It might help to warm up that voxcoder of yours before the mission…”

There was a lot Tarn was missing from his stasis. He was disappointed to be without his DJD for a length of time— the lot of them were his friends just as much as they were his subordinates. But he also knew that he would follow the Decepticons, wherever its new wings would fly them.

And such beautiful wings they were.


	2. Music/History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note: this fic has a cover that I drew for it and forgot to link to yesterday. You can check it out here!
> 
> https://helenadorf.tumblr.com/post/189262319448/im-beginning-tarnsaurusweek-with-g1-tarnsaurus  
> https://twitter.com/HelenadorfD/status/1198466774926286848?s=20

**MUSIC**

The Dinoforce were eager to shrink away from Tarn once they’d returned aboard the Thunder Arrow. Leozack, wisely, was choosing to keep his mouth shut for once. Oh, Deathsaurus was sure he would be doing some complaining to his sister later, but he really couldn’t care less. For the moment, he was having a lovely time speaking to his new asset.

Not for the subject matter, unfortunately. Tarn had been sealed away, it seems, not long after the Autobots and the Decepticons had reawakened from their crash-landing on Earth. That left Deathsaurus to impart the surely distressing fact that, in that case, Tarn had been imprisoned for roughly forty-one years.

Overall, in comparison to the rest of their lifespan, that was nothing. Deathsaurus wasn’t among the oldest Cybertronians by any means, but even he had lived long enough that a few decades seemed like the blink of an eye. But in the context of their war, a war in which they had gone from a four-million year standstill to devastating and eventful battles taking the lives of soldiers on both sides the moment they arrived on that fateful planet, forty years was an _eternity_. Tarn would have better luck being caught up on the first stasis than his second.

Still, Deathsaurus gave him a summary. Megatron, Galvatron, Sixshot’s betrayal, Overlord, and now himself. He dared to ask what Megatron was actually like back in the day— again, he’d never really had the chance to meet him very often. Deathsaurus had come online when Megatron was stuck under a rock, and had mostly taken his high command orders from Shockwave.

According to Tarn, Megatron was all that he was said to be. Cunning, violent, incredibly aggressive. Manipulative and deceptive, certainly. Cruel to his enemies and those who had failed him (as Tarn was living proof of). Proud.

But yet again, Deathsaurus didn’t actually care about any of it. He just liked hearing Tarn talk.

Now that Tarn’s systems were fully online, his voxcoder had lost that groggy static that had marred it down in the containment facility. In its fully functional state, it was low and honeyed, reaching Deathsaurus’ audials with such a pleasantness that it made it very easy to blur out the words and just _listen._

Powerful, elegant. Decepticons weren’t typically a high-society sort, but Tarn gave off every impression of being both educated and classy— all while still having just that little rough, Decepticon edge that made him very appealing. The contrast made listening to him all the sweeter, and it matched well to his polished, yet brutal frame type.

If this was what Weaponized Conversation sounded like, he was suddenly very jealous of Star Saber. His old nemesis had no idea the lethal treat he was in for.

He supposed it reminded him of some old Earth stories. Humans of ancient times used to warn each other about monsters from the depths of the sea, beautiful human-like creatures with aquatic traits, who sang beautiful songs to lure sailors and fishermen to their deaths. The concept of a siren’s song was the allure of something that could very easily kill the person who desired it.

And yet, even when the person knew the risks, it was hard not to want it anyway. The gift promised to make all their dreams come true before the end.

When questions of Tarn’s time had passed for the moment, Tarn asked more practical questions. Who the other Decepticons he was going to be working with were, for one. Any other notable Autobots he needed to be concerned about. Interestingly, he also asked about any humans amongst the Autobot’s ranks. Deathsaurus didn’t question why.

So he told him: keep an eye out for the likes of Victory Leo and Greatshot, the Brainmasters will be bloody annoying, both they and the Multiforce can combine. As for humans… there was Jan. Jan’s not usually a problem, but…

“Whatever you do, Tarn,” Deathsaurus warned, “No harm comes to the human boy.”

Tarn seemed surprised. Deathsaurus didn’t hesitate to explain: “I like kids. It’s the only thing about organics that I like— that their young are so innocent and, hell, kind of cute. Besides, you’re already effectively going to assassinate his father, you don’t need to hurt the boy himself on top of that.”

Deathsaurus saw Tarn’s eyes study him for a moment, and ultimately he offered no argument. His shoulders sagged and he raised his hands in surrender. “Very well.”

And from that point on, discussion continued. It transitioned naturally to how to best compensate for these things— Tarn claimed that he could forcibly decombine a combiner with his voice, but getting the chance to do so was tricky. He could also force mechs into paralysis with his voice, but it would only be temporary unless his voice was recorded and remained in range of his victims.

It made for a very easy preliminary plan to be worked out verbally between them— the plan to get that recording, and leave it within range of the problematic rabble. The Breastforce could combine and handle Greatshot and/or Victory Leo, and Star Saber would be forced to stay behind and handle Tarn— which, of course, would be his undoing.

And after that, discussion returned to less important topics. It was easy, throughout conversation, for Deathsaurus to give Tarn his full attention. Even aside from having that silky melody of his, he was articulate and engaging. Smart.

Why _had_ Megatron ever given him up? After all, Tarn had shown no signs of the supposed disloyalty that had gotten him imprisoned. Was that part of the mythology a lie, then? Who benefitted from that— _oh_ , probably Starscream. Or perhaps, Deathsaurus thought, he could just ask Tarn about it.

He wouldn’t get that chance now, as their current talk was interrupted by the Dinoforce, and the Thunder Arrow’s front windows displaying the vast Earth so close that they could see the mountain ranges in their heights and canyons in full detail, and pick out the tallest monuments that the planet’s people had created.

“We’re almost on Earth!” Kakuryu called.

“Ah.” Deathsaurus flashed Tarn a grin. “Now, then. Before we land, I have to ask; would you prefer to settle in before I send you to kill my enemy, or would you like to get your mission completed first and foremost?”

“The latter, my Lord.” Tarn’s eyes glowed. “Why hesitate? If this Star Saber has truly troubled you so over the past several hundred-thousand years, then I will delight in ridding you of him.”

Deathsaurus let his grin spread wider. “Music to my ears.”

* * *

**HISTORY**

Megatron had asked Tarn to kill Optimus Prime in the same way, once upon a time.

It hadn’t been his first mission, but it had been his most important mission. Megatron had told him, very strictly, that he would accept no mistakes. Tarn had accepted those conditions— after all, Tarn had needed to prove that he belonged to the Decepticons. And prove it he would, he and his DJD. He’d said as much to Megatron before the rest of High Command.

Starscream had been there.

There’d been this _look_ in Starscream’s eye, something conniving and remorseless. It’d still baffled Tarn why Megatron had let Starscream live, nevermind why he was still his second in command. It was one thing to keep an eye on a potential threat, another to repeatedly forgive a proven traitor. But it hadn’t been Tarn’s place to question it then.

Something he’d not mentioned to Megatron, and he’d failed to mention to Deathsaurus as well, was that there were limits to his voice. Namely, he couldn’t use it on organics like humans which infested this planet like Insecticons. In that mission back then, he’d not expected it to be a problem: after all, any human who happened by was too small and too harmless to cause any trouble. Certainly, too helpless to stop him from whispering Optimus to death.

He’d been proven wrong by that filthy little gaggle of brats. Spike, Carly and Chip. The four of them had found the way to not only stop Tarn from killing Optimus right then and there, but they’d been able to find clever ways to take down his DJD, one by one, in spite of their enormous disadvantage. They’d jammed Tesarus’ grinder, broken Helex’s smelter, trapped Vos in gun mode and trapped Kaon beneath a significant amount of rubble.

Tarn had been so close to success, but then those humans created a device which neutralized his voxcoder and rendered him unable to speak, at just the last word before Optimus Prime’s spark would have gone out for good. And unable to speak, too close to Optimus to aim his cannons, he’d been beaten down in battle effortlessly.

There was also a certain inconvenience in the fact that Deathsaurus was adamant on Tarn _not_ allowing any harm to come to Star Saber’s human. It was only one, and a very small one at that, but Tarn didn’t dare underestimate their kin for a second. Not after it had so brutally backfired on him last time, such that he was sent to rust.

As such, before the mission, he’d pulled Goryu aside. “I want the Dinoforce to get him away from the Autobot base, whatever that takes,” Tarn commanded. “I will only need the Breastforce at my back during the mission itself.”

“…Why?”

Tarn allowed his optics to glow sharply, watching with satisfaction as Goryu suddenly jolted and stifled a noise. “Do not question me, Goryu. It is under the will of the Emperor that I have authority over you— or would you like a _taste_ of my capabilities?”

At the word, Tarn allowed a little bit of his talent to seep through, regardless. Not much, but enough that Goryu would know it was there, and that it was dangerous. It would feel like a prickle of needles against his audials, stabbing just deep enough to send a warning.

“N-no!”

“I thought not. And remember: the Emperor wants to keep him _unharmed_.” With that, Tarn had been satisfied.

Except…

Now, marching down the corridors of the Autobot Shuttle Base, Tarn felt a certain queasiness in the pit of his chassis. The mission was going so well so far that it felt like an echo of his mission against Optimus, and _that_ was not a good thing.

It meant he could absolutely _not_ screw this up. He didn’t know if Deathsaurus would be more or less merciful towards him than Megatron was, and he wasn’t intent on finding out the hard way. For the moment, the rest of the Autobots were out of the way. Greatshot, it seemed, was posted elsewhere. Victory Leo was in combat with Leokaiser. The rest of the Autobots were pinned in place by the recording he’d left for them.

That left only Star Saber himself, and Tarn knew very clearly what he would do now. All he had to do was get in _close_ and finish him before anything could interrupt.

How convenient for him that Star Saber seemed to think of no other way to fight Tarn _than_ to get close, as he unsheathed his sword from his back and prepared to meet him in combat. Tarn had no blade of his own— only his cannons. And he didn’t miss the confusion in his enemy’s eyes as Tarn unflinchingly continued approaching, rather than stopping to aim those cannons.

To think, that was only Star Saber’s _second_ mistake. His third was daring to open conversation with Tarn, demanding: “You— who are you?”

Tarn let a smile spread wide across his face behind his mask. Power crackled in his voxcoder, the pain shocking the surrounding sensors in his own throat. He welcomed the sensation, and the moment Star Saber came close with the intent of offering the opening blow, Tarn replied: “Who _am_ _I,_ Star Saber?”

His power became a thousand swords through the segments of Star Saber’s spinal strut, halting in him place as he gasped in sudden, unexpected pain. His blade was suddenly caught in mid-strike, that arm trembling, unable to finish the motion.

Tarn came in closer, close enough to invade Star Saber’s EM field. He summoned up his power again and concentrated it, lowering his tone, careful that Star Saber would still hear him clearly. “Why don’t you _sit down_ a moment, and let me _tell you_ who I am.”

Star Saber didn’t have a choice. The Saber Blade fell from his hand, clattering to the floor, as the Supreme Commander of the Autobots dropped to his knees, breathing hard. He was only barely able to catch himself on one hand. Tarn, pleased with the result, knelt down next to him.

Then the _real_ joy of his work began. It had taken him a long time to get used to it— watching other Cybertronians struggle and weakly beg him for mercy. But it had proven quite simple once he had started having victims that brought him closer to his goal in their deaths— the ones that, under Decepticon Justice, _deserved_ to die. The satisfaction of a job well done silenced any lingering struggle Tarn had about his work.

And Star Saber was quite such a person, by virtue of being an Autobot and a threat to his new Emperor.

“I came to this planet on board the Ark, along with the rest of the first Autobots and Decepticons to land on this miserable planet,” Tarn explained, his tone casual but his power flooding Star Saber’s systems with pain. “I was there to see Megatron and Optimus Prime in combat, _oh_ , their battles are as glorious as your history books say they were. Unyielding, the both of them. And yet, I almost slew Optimus Prime myself… _single-handedly._ ”

“Im… Impossible,” Star Saber barely managed to say, straining under Tarn’s Conversation.

“ _Very_ possible, Star Saber. After all, what do you think I’m doing to you now?”

He allowed himself a small chuckle— and a second’s reprieve. There was always an echo of pain correlating to what he was doing to his victims at any given point. The quieter and more serene his voice became to gently snuff out his enemy’s spark, the more agonizing it was on his voxcoder to produce that effect. But he didn’t dare complain.

“I wonder if I’m even in those history books,” Tarn wondered idly. Every whisper shut down Star Saber’s processes one by one. “The Decepticons made a legend of me. The Autobots, I’m sure, tried to scrub me out of history. I must have been humiliating to them, with what I did… After all, why would they _ever_ want to suggest that their great, _perfect_ leader was, in fact, as flawed and foolish as any other miserable wretch with a red badge?”

“You… will _not—”_

“Oh, dear, you can still talk. Perhaps I should speak a little more _quietly_ …”

Star Saber seemed to strain himself more, as though he had tried to cry out in pain and was unable to. Tarn leaned in closer, so close that he was right up against Star Saber’s audial.

“If you can talk still, tell me… Do you think Emperor Deathsaurus would like your head, or would he want your entire corpse laid out at the foot of his throne?”

Star Saber choked static.

“Farewell,” Tarn breathed, so softly he couldn’t hear himself, that he wouldn’t even be sure he was speaking if it weren’t for the searing sensation lighting his throat ablaze. “Star—”

His voxcoder gave out, suddenly and without warning. Tarn rose suddenly, stumbling back, and looked up to see the _human_ atop a large device carried by another Autobot. A large one, with the decorations and stature of a high commander.

“You were right, Greatshot! It worked!” exclaimed the boy. _Jan_. “Supreme Commander, you can get up now!”

Star Saber gasped for breath, freed all at once from Tarn’s Conversation. His optics flashed blue, picking up his sword and rising gracefully to his feet, striking a battle stance.

“Jan, Greatshot— thank you,” he said.

“Thank us _after_ this battle,” Greatshot replied, setting the device down (and the human with it) and joining Star Saber’s side. “This is one of the deadliest Decepticons I’ve ever heard of— and I didn’t even realize he was still _alive_.”

Tarn grit his teeth and charged up his double cannon. He took a few extra steps backwards. He didn’t _dare_ let himself think of how the mission was failing, just as it had so long ago, and for the exact same reason. The boy had escaped the Dinoforce and, unaffected by Tarn’s voice, had no trouble shutting it down. And because he had been so occupied with killing Star Saber, he hadn’t the chance to raise his voice and paralyze Greatshot, either.

He snarled and fired before either Autobot could begin their attack. Both of them dodged with ease, and Tarn knew even as the battle broke out that the mission was lost. His mind’s voice berated him with the same venom of his physical one.

_You were careless, and now you have failed again._

_Deathsaurus may well be as furious as Megatron was. He might even send you back to Charr for another forty years, until the next Decepticon leader dares to place their trust in you._

_Or will they? They might not. You and the rest of your DJD will die forgotten beneath that planet’s crust._

_Because Deathsaurus might not let his people forget your history._


	3. Mercy/Victory

**MERCY**

The return to the Thunder Arrow was a walk of shame down Tarn’s memory lane. He recalled returning to the Nemesis in much the same plunge of dread, and a desperate hope that perhaps Megatron would be merciful. After all, did his people not fail him regularly? Surely he would offer some level of that same patience for Tarn as well, would he not?

But he had not. And to some degree, Tarn had Starscream to thank— it was a shame, really, that Galvatron had already rid the universe of that menace decades ago. Tarn would have loved to do it himself.

Tarn had neither that authority nor that opportunity. Not when every trace of Megatron was gone, not when Starscream was rumoured as nothing more than a ghost, and he had a vey real situation on his hands here and now. He had been brought on board the Decepticon ship once again, with its leader seeking to make him prove his worth, and he had failed. That was all he could risk thinking about.

Leozack arrived in the throne room with him, and it didn’t escape Tarn that the Breastforce leader seemed to dislike him. He didn’t care to wonder why— whether it was some combination of Tarn’s threat factor, or simply the fact that he had usurped Deathsaurus’ attention, Tarn had no time to put up with any pettiness. And Leozack certainly seemed the type to be _petty_. It hadn’t missed his notice, either, that Leozack took very poorly to being ordered around.

_Is it possible he’s found certain records of yours?_

But Deathsaurus had to get those from Soundwave. The fact that they were left with the Decepticon spymaster suggested that they were of a sort of high-secrecy that only the Decepticon Emperor would have access to, and his second-in-command would never be able to get past someone like Soundwave. Not without being sniffed out and caught.

But there was still a level on which Tarn wasn’t sure what _Deathsaurus_ knew about him. It was possible he only knew what he’d mentioned aboard the Thunder Arrow on the way back to Earth. Tarn didn’t want to take risks either way.

He stood before the Emperor on his throne, steeling himself for the coming conversation. Perhaps if he spoke well enough, he wouldn’t need to beg for Deathsaurus’ forgiveness.

“The mission failed,” Deathsaurus said. It was a statement of fact, but his tone was irked.

“…I’m afraid so, my Lord,” Tarn confessed. “It seems one of them— Greatshot, I believe— remembered who I am and what my powers are. He was able to arrive in time with a device to neutralize my voice.”

Deathsaurus scowled. Leozack dared to comment: “It’s no surprise that he would have heard of you. Greatshot is an ex-Decepticon.”

Tarn cursed himself as he remembered Deathsaurus telling him that exactly on the way to Earth. When he’d gone summarizing the previous Decepticon leaders before him, he’d mentioned that Galvatron’s fall was in part due to the betrayal of Sixshot. He hadn’t said outright that Sixshot had become Greatshot, but the frame types were the same, and Tarn should have connected the dots. Had he been so busy in grateful awe of his Emperor that he’d failed to listen?

Of course, Tarn could never imagine why the hell a Decepticon would dare to betray their own to begin with. For the likes of the self-righteous, conformist Autobots? What value did that have, when the Decepticons were so much better, so much more honest in their mission? He dared to wonder if it might have been worth a mission of its own to punish Greatshot for his defection. It would certainly be a worthy message to anyone else who dared attempt the same…

“And I understand you asked the Dinoforce to kidnap Jan,” Deathsaurus continued. “Is there a reason for that?”

Tarn steeled himself and answered calmly, his only mercy being his Emperor’s own. “My Weaponized Conversation… only affects Cybertronians. Autobots and Decepticons both. It doesn’t work on organic creatures like humans.”

“And you didn’t warn the Emperor about that?” Leozack asked. “Were you _trying_ to fail your mission?”

Tarn stiffened.

It wasn’t _quite_ the way Starscream had said it. Starscream had built up to the accusation, and it had sounded much less sincere— the statement, coming from that scientist’s mouth, had become a _coup de grace_ at the end of a speech about Tarn’s failure to cover all his bases, the fact that he had fallen so _easily_ once a proper battle began, what was the point of a squad of hitmen if they relied on their cheap tricks to get by? Nevermind that Tarn had only had his weapons installed a short while before that mission and been given no time to train, and it was so soon after their reawakening.

And yet, Leozack still had that same _something_ that infuriated Tarn. It was the self-serving arrogance, trying to make himself look better by putting down others. He’d heard enough mockery in his life, and if Leozack dared open his mouth one more time, he thought he might silence him right then and there before the Emperor.

But first, he had to argue. “The point was to get the boy out of the way without bringing him to harm. The Dinoforce, fools as they are, would serve exactly that purpose. Were the rest of the Autobots not _your_ responsibility to keep at bay as leader of the Breastforce?”

Leozack growled.

“And we were _doing_ our job! It’s not our fault if you were careless. One way or another, you should have killed Star Saber, and you should have told the Emperor that your voice was so weak!”

Tarn summoned his power and hissed, “This, coming from _you_. The whole reason your Emperor needed me was because _you_ were _incompetent_.”

His voice struck through Leozack’s audials, shooting pain throughout his systems. Leozack quickly felt it, the excruciating pain through his systems dropping him to his knees. He gasped for air, startled by the very power he had been insulting not thirty seconds ago.

It occurred to Tarn belatedly that, once again, history was repeating itself. And the last time, when he had done this to Starscream, Megatron had been in range of his voice— and he had _not_ taken lightly to feeling that pain for himself. It had given Starscream all the opening he needed to remind Megatron of a little _something_ , and convince him that Tarn wasn’t to be trusted—

Tarn turned his head towards Deathsaurus, and sure enough, Deathsaurus had heard it. There were claw marks in the armrests of his throne, and there was a grimace across the Emperor’s face.

But when Deathsaurus looked at Tarn, before he could mouth an apology and desperately beg forgiveness, that grimace twisted into a sharp and sinister grin. The expression was unexpected and frightening, and Tarn stumbled backwards when Deathsaurus rose from his throne.

* * *

**VICTORY**

Deathsaurus approached Tarn, stepping over the writhing Leozack, and leaned in towards the masked mech’s audial: “Feel free to do that again, next time Leozack gets _uppity_. I have such trouble keeping him in line…”

The statement seemed to confuse Tarn. Did he expect, perhaps, that he’d be punished for unintentionally harming him?

Heh. There was no denying it was painful. But the pain offered the undeniable truth: Tarn had absolutely come _very_ close to killing Star Saber, as he’d been reported, and given the chance to try again he could absolutely succeed. More importantly, though, it was a gain: he wasn’t surprised that Star Saber, as usual, had managed to make it by the plating of his teeth. Tarn was _exactly_ the power he was looking for, and his DJD would fill in where Tarn could not reach.

That, and it was satisfying to see Leozack suffer for his pride. Almost as intriguing was the pleasant surprise in Tarn’s eyes, almost hopeful, when Deathsaurus pulled back to look at him.

“Your loss cannot be helped,” Deathsaurus continued. “That bastard Star Saber always seems to find a way, and I would not have forgiven if anything had happened to the kid. But you proved as powerful as I was promised, Tarn, and faithful to boot. You haven’t won my victory _now_. You certainly _will_.”

Tarn’s eyes followed him as he returned to his throne. Deathsaurus saw Tarn’s shoulders relax, a hand placed in relief over his chest. “I… Thank you, my Lord, for your mercy.”

Deathsaurus waved it off. “Now that you’ve proven your own strength, I think it’s time we paid another visit to the facility on Charr— the rest of your squadron should be enough, am I correct?”

“Yes. Even with Greatshot and what knowledge he has of me… He won’t be enough to fend off the entire Decepticon Justice Division at once.” Tarn steadily appeared more confident as he spoke, lowering his hands and clasping them politely behind his back.

“Correction: the Autobots won’t be able to fend off your DJD, the rest of my forces and _myself_ at once,” Deathsaurus said, grinning. “I want to be right there to watch you kill him, Tarn. I certainly enjoyed imagining your first attempt.”

Tarn didn’t say anything to that, but there was a certain new apprehension to his body language. Was he _nervous_ at the thought of his Emperor seeing his work first-hand? Really, he had no reason to be. Deathsaurus was very much looking forward to seeing Star Saber look as agonized as Leozack did.

Deathsaurus retook his seat, ejecting Tigerbreast and Eaglebreast. Eaglebreast landed atop one of the armrests of his throne for him to pet— Tigerbreast, on the other hand, was very curious to meet their newest asset. He padded up to Tarn, sniffed him, and sat at his feet.

As Tarn knelt down to stroke Tigerbreast, Deathsaurus imagined— Star Saber, a lifeless husk. The Autobots, each one either destroyed or in chains. The DJD alongside the rest of Deathsaurus’ people, triumphant over their enemies and a four million-year war finally brought to an end. Tarn himself, at the head of it all, with those glowing eyes and brilliant blood-pink biolights accentuating the curves of his frame.

He was certainly a very _pretty_ mech.

Heh. It was a bit too soon to be thinking such things, but he noticed that Tigerbreast already seemed to like him. The cat had moved past Tarn’s hand and had leapt onto his tank tracks, curling around Tarn’s shoulders. Tarn trying to balance himself without letting Tigerbreast slip off was kind of cute, actually.

Deathsaurus remembered Leozack was in the room when he finally managed to get back onto his feet, scowling conspiratorially at Tarn.

“Leozack,” Deathsaurus began, not letting Leozack get too deep into whatever plots he was already daring to put together in his mind. “Send word to the Dinoforce that we’ll be on the hunt for enough energy reserves to free the rest of the DJD _and_ assure continued operations under Esmeral and Lyzack while we finish our business in Charr.”

His second-in-command unhappily accepted the order and left the room without a word.

Yes, the eventual victory would be sweet. Deathsaurus had no qualms about believing that, knowing that the rest of the Decepticon Justice Division, if not quite as powerful as their leader, were very strong indeed. After all, if Tarn lived up to his reputation, then his people likely would as well. A collection of war machines and torture devices, the likes of which the Autobots had long forgotten and weren’t prepared for.

Well. With exception again to that traitor, Greatshot. But really, even _he_ had his limits. There was no one alive without weaknesses. Their entire race had learned that the day that Optimus Prime and Megatron had felled one another in combat and left the war to their successors. (Nevermind that Galvatron was technically Megatron in the same way that Victory Leo was still God Ginrai, but Galvatron was still a very different person indeed… a much stupider, less worthy person.)

The Autobots would learn Decepticon Justice and how hard the gavel hit, and their sentencing would be sweet. Victory, carried upon the shoulders of the mech in the mask.


	4. Beauty/War

**BEAUTY**

Deathsaurus was gone for the moment, preparing for the trip back to Charr. Tarn now appreciated the cat still curled and perched around his tank treads, purring loudly in his audial— petting him was a comfort he appreciated very much. Deathsaurus suggested that it was a good sign: supposedly, Tigerbreast didn’t usually take so quickly to others.

There was something very flattering about the Emperor seeming so fond of him. There was still that lingering concern, thanks to the protests of Leozack— but it was easy to put them out of mind, both because of the purring drowning them out and because of the way Deathsaurus looked at him. The way he spoke to him. It was silly to be moved over something so simple, and yet…

Even if he reminded himself that Megatron had been fond of him as well, that fell flat when comparing how Megatron had taken to his failure to Deathsaurus. Megatron had accepted no mistakes from him where Starscream, hell, the entire rest of the Decepticon army could fail him again and again and never see such severe consequences as Tarn had.

There was a very good reason for that, of course, at least in the eyes of Decepticon law. In fact, even for Decepticon law, _Megatron_ had been merciful to him. Megatron could have killed him, or sent him to the Autobots to be executed by their hand instead. Both possibilities were disturbing to consider. Tarn and his DJD may well have been very lucky.

Tarn thought to take the time to be acquainted with Deathsaurus’ other forces. So far, he’d found and met Leozack’s sister, who it turned out was a much more pleasant company than her arrogant, self-obsessed brother. He’d also happened upon Deathsaurus’… “ _son_ ”, the hot-headed and spoiled Solon Kitakaze. Suddenly Tarn no longer had questions as to why the Emperor was fond of human children, if he had one of his own.

Had any other Decepticon leaders ever kept humans around? He would have to do some more in-depth reading into the forty years he’d missed in stasis. It was a… _bizarre_ concept, and yet, he wondered if there was an advantage to it, much the same way that the Autobots had benefitted from _their_ alliances. Fire with fire, he supposed.

There was still so much he didn’t know yet, and a whole lot he hadn’t even had the _chance_ to know before Megatron had punished him. And having it happen so soon after the four-million year stalemate beneath a mountain, it almost felt like Tarn had been deprived the right to live his life. Even back on Cybertron, he had been stifled. Silenced. His hands clenched at the thought.

Tigerbreast rubbed his head against Tarn’s cheek guard and meowed. Tarn snapped out of his thoughts and raised a hand to give the desired scritches.

“Yes, hello.” Lucky Tigerbreast, that there was so much room on Tarn’s shoulders that he could roll over. “Such an affectionate little thing.”

“Isn’t he?”

A large mech of Deathsaurus’ same frame type had come around the corner. She wasn’t quite the same shape— she was more streamlined, without any breast partners. Her talons were sharper. Her teeth were more glaringly predatory in contrast to her delicate face, and her wingspan dwarfed her.

He remembered belatedly that the Emperor was married, and his mood fell a little at the thought.

Deathsaurus’ fondness, then, was for Tarn as a weapon; but that was what Tarn wanted, wasn’t it? It was something he’d failed to cultivate with Megatron. And yet, there was a part of him, irrational and quick to attach, which felt hurt.

Shaking it off, Tarn stood to attention. She regarded him, fixing her eyes on him.

“So you’re my husband’s new friend,” she said, her voice a low-toned purr. “Welcome back, Tarn. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tarn bowed to her, and Tigerbreast finally leapt off his shoulders. “Well met, Empress Esmeral.”

Tigerbreast approached Esmeral with the same expectant look that he’d given Tarn earlier. Esmeral gladly and easily caught Tigerbreast when he leapt into her arms, carried like a baby, and he relaxed there instantly. (Even to the cat, Tarn wasn’t special.)

“Powerful _and_ respectful. You truly are a Decepticon of old.”

He straightened from his bow, leaving a hand over his chest. “You flatter me.”

She dismissed the thought. “Don’t be humble, Tarn. It takes a lot to impress my Des, and it takes a lot to impress _me_. I was concerned that the reports of your work were exaggerated when he found out that you were real— and now here I am, hearing that you’ve come closer to killing Star Saber in five minutes than our entire army has in the past several hundred-thousand years?”

“ _Six_ minutes, perhaps, my Lady.” Tarn allowed a small smile to play across his lips, not that she would see it. “Admittedly, he is _very_ resilient, your enemy.”

She grinned with sharp teeth. “The point remains, and I’m intrigued. How _does_ your Weaponized Conversation work, exactly?”

Tarn told her. It wasn’t anything complicated to explain, not when he thought back to how Shockwave had explained it to him. It was also lucky that he had done a bit of reading himself, so long ago, to get a better grasp on self-understanding when he had thought himself nothing but cursed. 

Regardless, he and Esmeral took to talking for a while. She was a good conversationalist, intelligent and insightful. He could see why the Emperor had chosen her. Aside from herself being bold and powerful, not unlike the Emperor himself, Esmeral had an inviting air about her. She was charming, good-natured, but she still had the sharp look in her eye and glint in her fangs that it took to be respected amongst the Decepticons. And she was very beautiful.

It was silly to feel jealous. She and Deathsaurus had met while Tarn was still in stasis, and he hadn’t even known Deathsaurus existed before then. The five hundred-thousand years ago that Deathsaurus had first been built amongst the Decepticon ranks, Tarn had been far away and stuck in the same deactivated state that had held the war to a halt for millions of years while the rest of the Earth had grown around the Ark. There was no opportunity for Tarn to have met Deathsaurus before being awakened.

But still, he almost wished he _could_ have known him first, although he would quickly have to admit he was out of his league. The person he had been before he was _Tarn_ … that person would never have crossed Deathsaurus’ mind as anything more than a bite to eat, if that. He certainly hadn’t been as well-built and elegant as the Empress.

Tarn’s current frame was perhaps closer to being on-par, but he didn’t know Deathsaurus’ tastes. It wouldn’t surprise him if he preferred mates who could join him in flight, it couldn’t have necessarily been a coincidence that he and his wife happened to have the same frame type. Chances were that even if time and fate had cooperated with Tarn’s ridiculous, momentary thought, Esmeral still would have caught Deathsaurus’ eye first.

There was no beauty behind the mask.

If she noticed his momentary distress, she brought no attention to it. Instead, conversation wrapped up when one of the Dinoforce— Kakuryu, Tarn believed— poked his head into the room.

“Tarn! Sir!” he said. “The Emperor says we’re ready to go. Hi, Esmeral!”

“Hello.” Esmeral turned to Tarn, allowing Tigerbreast to leave her arms. “It seems that you’re needed.”

Tarn nodded. “Yes— please excuse me, my Lady.”

She paused as he turned to leave and Tigerbreast returned to Tarn’s side. “Oh,” Esmeral added as an afterthought. “And don’t be disappointed, Tarn. The Emperor and I have an open marriage.”

Esmeral winked and left Tarn to head off to his mission, her wings swaying from her back. He dared think a moment about what she was insinuating and felt his face grow hot beneath his mask.

* * *

**WAR**

It came as no surprise that the Autobots, anticipating the release of the rest of the DJD thanks to Greatshot, followed them off-planet and sought to stop them from reaching Charr. Deathsaurus had a plan for the occasion, and it was thus: Leozack would command the Dinoforce to keep the Autobots distracted while he and Tarn, tucked into a small shuttle, would continue on towards Charr and free Tarn’s team. When they were free, they’d signal the Thunder Arrow to flee and land and bring the Autobots to them. He doubted they had enough information, or manpower, to handle the entire DJD while they still had to keep at least one of their teams on Earth to protect it.

The shuttle was _only_ large enough for him and Tarn, forcing them into very close quarters as they ejected from the Thunder Arrow and flew straight for Charr. Close enough that Deathsaurus could barely work the controls with Tarn squished up against his right side, his thighs pressed against Deathsaurus’. It wasn’t comfortable, but there was no way he was going to complain.

He’d gotten quick word that Esmeral liked Tarn, too. Lyzack said that she didn’t see anything of concern in Tarn, at least not when it came to the safety of the Decepticon Empire as a whole— she wasn’t happy about her brother getting hurt by his Weaponized Conversation. All the better to prove that he had made the right decision to free him, and Leozack couldn’t be helped.

Also, Tarn had nowhere to put his hands but Deathsaurus’ arm, and that was very nice.

It wouldn’t be long before they reached Charr, and the autopilot could take care of everything. Deathsaurus relaxed as much as he had the space to do so, leaning back in the one seat and gesturing for Tarn to invite himself as close as he dared. The guidance system confirmed that the Autobots hadn’t noticed them sneaking off.

Things were going well. Well enough that Deathsaurus took the opportunity to start conversation. “May I ask you something, Tarn?”

Tarn turned his head towards him. Deathsaurus didn’t fail to notice his pretty new underling running hot against him, and much as he would have _loved_ to enjoy it, he wanted at least _some_ of his attention to be paid to the mission. Enough to make sure the Autobots didn’t interrupt anything. Enough to make sure he knew when they had landed.

“Certainly, my Lord,” Tarn said. “What is it?”

“How much of the war did you see…” Deathsaurus wrapped his hand around Tarn’s waist. “…Before that fateful crash on Earth?”

“Before then…?” Tarn thought for a moment, at least as much as he could with Deathsaurus’ fingers playing with the seams of his frame. “I… suppose I was little else but a soldier at first, when the war began. Nothing terribly special. Disliked, in fact.”

“Disliked?”

“My superiors considered me…” Tarn frowned behind his mask. “They didn’t think well of me. Nobody realized at first that I had a natural power to kill, because it seemed just a simple jinx at first. I was told not to touch anyone else. Not to speak too much.”

Deathsaurus had to avoid scoffing at the thought. Tarn, not to touch, when he had such fine claws on his hands and such a handsome appearance? Told not to speak, when he had such a seductive voice? Of course, he realized after a moment what the fact of the matter was.

“You didn’t know how to control it at first,” he guessed.

Tarn nodded. “It was humiliating. My leader wanted to dismiss me entirely, but I wanted to be respected. I learned to hone my talent, and it grew in power… that’s when Megatron saw potential in me.”

Deathsaurus listened intently. He tugged Tarn in closer, such that Tarn’s thighs were more comfortable laid across his and Tarn’s chest was pressed right up to his. Tarn’s hands moved to his shoulders.

“He…” Tarn made a note of their position, and cleared his throat to continue. “Megatron knew I could become a machine of war, given the right strength. He helped me get it. And then…”

_And then I failed_ , but Tarn didn’t say those words out loud. Deathsaurus could taste them in the air, in the sour smell of anxiety coming from Tarn. He no longer looked Deathsaurus in the eye. And Deathsaurus couldn’t help but think, _Megatron is an idiot_.

So much effort to create the ultimate warrior, one that didn’t need a weapon to kill, and he threw him _away_? And for what? Deathsaurus still had no idea. But he suddenly had a stronger impression of why, behind Tarn’s calm poise, he could always see something uncertain and something nervous.

All that attention, all that work on Tarn’s part, only to be locked away like a malfunctioning nuclear reactor. Deathsaurus squeezed Tarn’s waist, leaning in further, so much so that he could feel the breath suddenly sucked into the gap in Tarn’s mask as Deathsaurus brushed his nose against it.

“And now you’re here,” Deathsaurus murmured. “And you’re _mine_.”

Tarn shivered.

Deathsaurus raised his free hand to run a finger over the gap in Tarn’s mask when the autopilot beeped at him to inform them that they were about to land. The Autobots were still in combat with the Thunder Arrow, and Deathsaurus knew full well that they weren’t going to last too long. They were going to have to be quick.

Tarn regretfully shifted to give Deathsaurus some room as the shuttle slowed, hovering above the ground for a moment before touching down just outside of the factory where Deathsaurus had found the containment facility. As the shuttle opened to let them out, Tarn had to get out first— Deathsaurus followed him. (As much fun as it was to be in Tarn’s space, his wings appreciated the room to flare wide and breathe.)

“Come,” Deathsaurus said, “I’d like your DJD to make the Autobots regret coming after us.”

Tarn’s fluster vanished completely at that moment, his shoulders squared and his fists clenched. “We’ll send the message loud and clear, my Lord.”

*

The Autobots’ retreat was a sweet victory Deathsaurus couldn’t be more pleased with. The Multiforce had been brought along, of all Autobots, and they had been horrifically unprepared for the likes of the DJD. Two of them (… well, _four_ , technically) were almost dead, Wingwaver having been badly injured rescuing Machtackle from Tesaurus’ grinder. Helex and Vos both had done a number on Greatshot, and Star Saber had been forced to call the retreat before the Autobots could take any more damage.

Aboard the Thunder Arrow, the Dinoforce were intimidated all over again by the reassembled DJD. Tesarus and Helex were very excited to be free and on their way to a mission. Vos was… well, to be entirely honest, Deathsaurus had no idea. Vos spoke in a strange primitive language he couldn’t understand, but his teammates seemed to understand him fine. Kaon, Tarn’s second, was currently giving him a salute and saying, “A pleasure to be under your command, Emperor Deathsaurus.”

Deathsaurus grinned. “Your leader has already made a good case for the rest of you. He’s told me that you live and breathe war. When we land on Earth, the five of you are going to prove it.”

Kaon nodded. “Yes, sir!”

Kaon returned to Tarn’s side. Tarn spared a glance at Deathsaurus, speaking volumes of gratitude— but Deathsaurus didn’t need that, really.

The thrill of sending Star Saber running made him that much more certain of his plan now. They would have to strike quickly, while the Autobots were still reeling and injured— he knew full well that the Brainmasters were all talk, utterly incapable of anything without Star Saber to hold their hands. Victory Leo and Star Saber alone could not fend off an enemy they barely knew, and if Greatshot was put out of commission, that put them at a disadvantage power alone could not overcome.

The pleasures of the spark and war were coming hand-in-hand, ever since he first found Tarn’s file. At this rate, the disappointment would be winning so _easily_ after millennia of trouble.


	5. Crime/Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late, and I had to betray my chapter format for this one, but here it is! I appreciate the attention this fic has gotten so far, thank you! :'D

**CRIME/CONFESSION**

The Autobots had changed their security passwords no doubt countless times over the past forty years, and yet they were still so predictable. Kaon had managed to hack into the security system at the Autobot Shuttle Base and patch Tarn into their cameras, so he could see for himself what they had come to learn about the DJD and what they were still in the dark about.

The two-thirds of the Multiforce which had almost died had been saved from the brink of the end, restored into their singleton forms and restricted from combining for a while. That was good. It meant there was one less threat at the Autobots’ disposal.

Greatshot, too, hadn’t quite fully recovered. He was treated, and he would presumably be fine (or at least, that was what their doctors told Star Saber— Tarn had much different plans for the traitor), but he was in no condition to return to the battlefield. Star Saber was spending a lot of time at his side, as was the boy. The boy, and some puny cop car named Holi.

More important than that, though, was Greatshot and Star Saber taking the time to discuss future plans. Much of it was irrelevant to Tarn’s interests. It wasn’t until the topic came of the rise of the DJD that he cared to listen, and listen close.

“Did you know the DJD, Greatshot?” Star Saber asked. There was no hesitance in his tone— to him, Greatshot’s formerly Decepticon status was a simple matter of fact rather than a devastating and permanent black mark on his record.

“No. They were…” Greatshot adjusted himself on the hospital bed. “Before my time. When the Six Clan joined the Decepticons’ operations on Earth, Megatron was already long gone, forget the DJD. But the remaining high command of those early days told us the _true_ story.”

Tarn’s fingers, interlaced, tensed around each other.

“The _true_ story?” Star Saber prompted.

“The Decepticons of these days have shrouded their story in legend, and not all of it is inaccurate. But the accepted origin is that they were commissioned by Megatron… they weren’t commissioned. They came from Cybertron, born from the same factories as all the other Cybertronians of that era. They were normal people… _once_.”

Star Saber leaned in, and Tarn dared to do the same. He kept his eyes locked on the screen.

“When Megatron changed them, he rebuilt them completely,” Greatshot continued. “And made them adopt new personalities to suit his needs. Starscream saw the potential that someone as powerful as Tarn could take his place as Megatron’s second-in-command… and the reason that Starscream was able to convince Megatron that Tarn was so dangerous was because of who he was before then. Tarn was always strong-willed, very stubborn, but he wasn’t a monster until Megatron made him one.”

One of Greatshot’s movements agitated a serious injury across his waist, spiking the vital signs on the monitors momentarily. Star Saber carefully guided Greatshot back down, adjusting the bed around him to be more comfortable.

“Please, don’t move too much,” Star Saber insisted. “You’re still badly hurt.”

“If you want to understand the DJD,” Greatshot said, despite the strain on his systems, “You need to know their names. Their _true_ names.”

Tarn watched in horror as Greatshot leaned in towards Star Saber’s audial and, too quiet to be picked up by the security cameras, whispered a damning truth.

Star Saber only left afterwards, when Greatshot lowered himself down onto the bed again and the doctors returned. Tarn pushed himself away from the desk, daring to contemplate the implications of the development.

The Autobots didn’t have information the Decepticons didn’t about the DJD. There was no way they did. The Autobots were too dedicated to their image of a perfect messiah, the image they had made of Optimus, to do anything else but either destroy those records or simply let them decay and corrupt over time. They didn’t have the pieces to put together the _other_ records of people who no longer existed with the legends that had become of them.

Until now.

And even after the fondness Deathsaurus had shown him, and the approval of his wife, Tarn still didn’t dare think that he was safe so long as he still had secrets to hide. If he exacted a quick mission to destroy the computers that kept those old reports, then perhaps he had a chance to take those secrets to his grave…

But there was no time for that. Deathsaurus planned their strike to be in the morning. And…

And there was somebody at the door.

Tarn whirled around with the fiercest glare he could level at the Breastforce member he caught poking his nose in. To his surprise, it wasn’t that uppity Leozack, but instead one of his subordinates— the cowardly and desperate-to-please Hellbat, who squawked in surprise as Tarn’s leer leveled itself at him.

“A-Ah! My apologies, Tarn, ­ _sir_ —” Hellbat insisted, standing upright at the door and bowing frantically. “But I was curious— your door was wide open!”

Tarn narrowed his optics. “My door was _locked_.”

“Ah, well, uh—” Hellbat coughed, trying desperately to scrape up an excuse. “I-I guess the automated locks don’t work like they should! And then the wind… um…”

Tarn didn’t bother to point out that the base was several hundred miles below sea level, on the ocean floor. He would rather warm up his voxcoder for a bit of _gentle persuasion_ than waste his breath otherwise.

“A-anyway! Since I _happened_ to overhear just a little bit of that footage you’ve got there… I was wondering if you needed anybody to, say… run by the Autobot base and do a little _maintenance_?”

Clever, that Hellbat was able to figure out what Tarn was thinking. Not clever enough, however, that Tarn would dare trust the mission to him— because if Leozack set off the amber alert, Hellbat was giving him blaring red alarms.

It wasn’t just the clumsy nervousness of the mech, so obvious as the behaviour of someone who’d been caught doing something naughty. It was the _knowingness_ in his eyes, and the fact that he thought to approach Tarn to begin with. The rest of the Decepticon army thus far, besides Esmeral (who had no need to fear of him, being Deathsaurus’ wife) and Lyzack (who had enough of her brother’s courage to express her anger at someone who had threatened her family, but wasn’t foolish enough to challenge Tarn like her brother was), didn’t dare get close to Tarn unless they had to. Only the DJD and the Emperor himself had that right.

And after Starscream had advocated Tarn’s imprisonment so _giddily_ , Tarn was _not_ in the business of allowing traitors into his midst. He decided he would make Hellbat regret being so bold.

Tarn stood from his desk, and that alone spurred Hellbat into scrambling back with a yelp. Beyond that, it seemed his legs refused to move him when Tarn continued his calm approach, instead pinning him in place for Tarn to come close and lean in.

“If I needed such a mission done,” he said, with only a hint of his Weaponized Conversation tinting his voice, “I would ask it of my DJD. Now, should I let you go, or must I inform the Emperor that you’ve taken to spying on me?”

Hellbat didn’t cave.

Instead, the spy looked Tarn right in the eye, and asked: “If you were to tell the Emperor such a thing, whose judgment would he trust: someone who’s been by his side for years, or you?”

Tarn was hit with a sudden wave of drowsiness. He didn’t need to think too hard about it to realize it was Hellbat’s doing, and his fury spurred him into action.

He grabbed Hellbat by the throat, throwing Hellbat off balance enough to make him stop. As he lifted the spy off the ground, he saw Hellbat quickly switch back from coolly confident to frantic, clawing desperately at Tarn’s grip.

“I-I was kidding!” Hellbat choked. “P-please, forgive me, sir!”

Tarn held him there a moment still, long enough to hear Hellbat whimper. “Was this your idea, or Leozack’s?”

“Leozack’s!”

Tarn dropped Hellbat. Hellbat gracelessly landed on his aft.

“Then tell Leozack that if he wants to confront me, he’d better do it himself.”

Hellbat nodded, said something about sending the message right away, and bolted down the corridor.

This wasn’t exactly good. He couldn’t be sure what Hellbat did or didn’t hear— if nothing else, he was certain that the actual details of Tarn’s true name were hidden to him still. But Greatshot had said enough that if Leozack and Hellbat had any intention to look further into it, or worse yet investigate the records for themselves, they would find what Tarn was trying to hide.

Tarn would just have to do some work of his own. He sent a comm to Kaon: “Keep an eye on the likes of Leozack and Hellbat— I have reason to believe they’re plotting against us.”

“Understood, Tarn.” Kaon sounded displeased, himself. “I am _not_ letting those bastards send us back to Charr.”

*

“You blamed ME for your scheming?!”

“I-I did no such thing! What I _said_ to Tarn was that I was worried about you after he used his voice on you, and that’s why I was trying to keep an eye on things. I had no bad intentions whatsoever!”

Leozack accepted this, albeit unhappily. “Either way, this is bad. I don’t trust Tarn for a second. He’s hiding something important from the Emperor… and the rest of the DJD will try to keep us in line if we try to figure it out.”

“Don’t worry, Leo.” Hellbat had a glint in his eye. “I think the Autobots might take care of things for us tomorrow morning.”

“What do you mean?”

Hellbat winked and said, “We just need to send a little _anonymous tip_ to Star Saber…”


	6. Control/Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am and I'm a sleepy bitch
> 
> nyarhahnghhnhggn

**CONTROL**

They were winning, and Tarn had never felt so _alive_.

It was no surprise that things were going exactly as Deathsaurus planned them, with the Decepticons controlling the battlefield. Since more than a few of their soldiers, including one of their best, were out of commission, the Autobots were floundering. The Brainmasters struggled to survive the force of his Justice Division. Liokaiser was making a mockery of Victory Leo, and watching Deathsaurus and Star Saber in battle felt as legendary as watching Optimus Prime and Megatron had been, once upon a time.

Deathsaurus was a glorious mech to look at already, but he never looked more majestic than mid-hunt— in his kaiju mode, in his robot mode. It didn’t matter which. It almost distracted him from making short work of one of the Brainmasters. Blacker, he believed.

The mech was still alive, but barely. His spark was likely flickering and faint in his chest, as he was struggling on the ground, unable to get up and lend aid to his comrades. And yet, he still had the strength to glare up at Tarn, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Star Saber _will_ win,” he hissed, “it doesn’t matter what you do or what Deathsaurus tries to throw at him!”

Tarn slammed his heel down on the side of Blacker’s head. “Oh, do be quiet. The Autobots of my day liked to say the same about Optimus, and look what happened to him.”

When he lifted his foot, Blacker spat blood and cracked a painful smirk.

“You still say _Optimus_ ,” he managed, voice crackling with static, “Instead of _Prime_.”

Tarn narrowed his eyes and stomped one more time for good measure. Blacker was, if not dead, then out cold.

With the rest of his DJD beating the remaining Brainmasters into scrap, he turned his attention back to the battle between Deathsaurus and Star Saber. It was an even match, as each one traded blows with both taking damage.

And that just wouldn’t do. Tarn decided to tip the scales.

He transformed, aimed, and fired at Star Saber’s back.

Star Saber’s scream of pain caught the attention of the remaining Autobots and Decepticons both, and Tarn took advantage of the moment to roll right into the fray before transforming back and joining Deathsaurus.

“I hope you don’t mind, my Lord,” Tarn said, putting his sweetest notes into his voice. “But I can’t stand the sight of this wretch.”

Deathsaurus grinned widely. “Not at all, Tarn. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Urrgh…”

Star Saber stood back up, damaged but still able to stand. He balanced himself on his sword, briefly, but once he was on his feet he lifted it up. Strangely enough, _not_ in a combat stance, but rather simply showing that he didn’t need to rely on it to stay upright.

“You make such a display of your bravado,” Tarn said, preparing his weapon. “Why the hesitation?”

“Because I know the truth of you,” Star Saber managed.

He lifted his head, looking Tarn directly in the eye before speaking. The start of it was simple, yet devastating: “ _Damus_.”

Tarn froze.

He knew to _expect_ it, he’d _seen_ Greatshot tell Star Saber his real name. But hearing it was painful, viscerally so— because he had done so much work, shed so much of his old identity and fought to forge his new one in fire, that having it thrown back at him as though he’d not changed at all…

He could hear Starscream’s voice in the back of his head. _Come on now, Damus. You’re still behaving like a scared turbomouse after being given that new body? Did you forget you had a double-cannon on your arm? And that you had a pair strapped to your back, too? How pathetic!_

“You and your DJD were hard workers, all five of you,” Star Saber said. “Even if no one tended to notice at the time. The five of you did the most work to unbury the Ark from the mountain, working even when the others had turned in for the night. You, personally— you used to be quite the singer, whenever you had the nerve to show it to everyone else. Some of your old friends took care to remember these things about you, even after your defection.”

_He wins a few missions, and then all of a sudden he’s defeated by a bunch of humans? Him and the whole rest of the DJD? And how_ convenient _, that he never mentioned that his Weaponized Conversation doesn’t work on them… I wonder, did he maybe want you to let your guard down, Lord Megatron? Did he lose on_ purpose _?_

“Megatron was cruel, to lock you away not three days after taking you on as his disciple. That’s about how long it took, wasn’t it? From the moment you left the Ark to the moment you arose as Tarn of the DJD. But I recognize that Optimus did not react well to your power, even though your lack of control was not your fault.”

_If he lost on purpose, then what do you think might happen now that he has our power?_ Starscream had asked as he circled Megatron’s back. _He’ll go back to them, him and the rest of his “Decepticon” Justice Division. All the training you gave him, all the energy you spent on the rebuilds, all of it in Prime’s hands. How tragic would that be?_

_No!_ Tarn had cried out. _That’s not what I intend at all!_

_Face it, he’s still just that nervous little freak you picked up. And Prime rejected him and his friends for a reason. Now that he can prove himself to them, he has nothing to gain from staying with us._

_Megatron, please!_

_I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past, Lord Megatron. But who do you trust? A born Decepticon like me, or an_ Autobot _like him?_

“It must seem like both sides are against you. That you’re forced to ‘earn’ the respect of the one who released you, when you should have been treated with respect from the start.”

Megatron had made his choice back then. If he couldn’t risk Tarn’s return to the Autobots, he would bring Tarn to a place he couldn’t leave, to be left there until he saw fit to free him. It might have been that Megatron had died before he could decide that Tarn’s sentence was over. Or he might have never had the intent to release him.

At his side, Deathsaurus had stopped to listen. Tarn felt a moment of fear, which he shoved away immediately. Now was _not_ the time.

“You don’t have to stay with them,” Star Saber continued, reaching out a hand to Tarn. “On Optimus’ behalf, I offer my sincerest apologies for what he did. And I’d like you to return to the Autobots.”

* * *

**COMPROMISE**

_Return_ to the Autobots?

So that was how Starscream turned Megatron on his own creation. Some twisting of facts, a bit of fabrication that Megatron wasn’t smart enough to see through, maybe even a sprinkle of genuine truth in there to sweeten the pot. In hindsight, nothing had ever said in the records that Tarn had come to Earth onboard the Nemesis, and there _were_ no records of Tarn before his first few missions. Soundwave had said so.

And it absolutely _did not matter_ to Deathsaurus. He snarled at Star Saber, standing between him and Tarn— baring his claws and showing his teeth. He flared his wings for good measure, so Star Saber wasn’t allowed to even _see_ his…

What _was_ Tarn anymore? More than an asset and more than a prize. He’d have to put actual thought into it later.

“He will _never_ go with you,” Deathsaurus hissed, offended on Tarn’s behalf. “He belongs to _me_ now. And I never let go of the things I care about! His past— as an Autobot, under Megatron, doesn’t matter!”

Star Saber returned his hand to the hilt of his sword, matching Deathsaurus’ sneer with cold anger of his own. “ _Belongs_ to you, Deathsaurus? Have you asked _him_ what he thinks of that?”

“This, coming from you, assuming his feelings! You are no better than Prime!”

“I’ve assumed nothing. I’m offering him a choice, something _you’re_ intent on keeping away from him.”

_Blatantly_ untrue, but Deathsaurus didn’t expect Star Saber to know better. Even after hundreds of thousands of years, they had no chance of understanding each other— Star Saber was so self-righteous, so _obviously perfect_ (with all the dripping sarcasm he could pour into those words), that he would never know what it was like to have to claw his way to the top. To have to _prove_ himself to his superiors. But Esmeral had understood and appreciated Deathsaurus’ efforts, and Tarn, surely, understood just as well on a very personal level.

Deathsaurus would not, _could_ not, let Tarn be insulted by someone who had no clue what he was talking about. He was ready to pounce on Star Saber and tear Star Saber’s throat out, even if he got stabbed in the process.

But Tarn had stepped forward, placing a hand on Deathsaurus’ shoulder.

“My Lord,” he murmured, quiet, not letting Star Saber hear. “Do you trust me?”

Deathsaurus didn’t know why he was asking that now, but after all the work Tarn had put in, and all that Tarn had told him about himself— only until the parts that he assumed Tarn was ashamed of— he had no qualms about saying, “Yes.”

He knew others— Leozack, for example— would loathe to hear it. But that wasn’t the point. They were busy, with a battle to focus on, and Deathsaurus knew for a fact that Tarn would never betray the Decepticons. Not with all the hard work he put into getting his mask.

Tarn approached Star Saber, clasping his hands behind his back. “You say you’re offering me a choice, Star Saber,” he said, “and I would like to answer with a compromise.”

Star Saber lowered his blade, only relaxing his shoulders by a fraction.

Deathsaurus could hear something smug and powerful as Tarn laid out his terms: “I will rejoin the Autobots on one condition: surrender yourself to Deathsaurus.”

Star Saber startled. “What?!”

Tarn’s grin was practically audible. “That’s about a fair trade, isn’t it? Me and my DJD, in power roughly equal to yourself. My Justice Division and I sacrificed a great deal to become Decepticons, Star Saber. How can you think we would change our minds for free?”

Star Saber visibly tensed.

Deathsaurus had to admit, it was one hell of a power play. Sure, Star Saber was the self-sacrificing sort. But even he had to recognize the madness of giving himself up for, effectively, nothing. What would keep Tarn among the Autobots, if there was no guarantee of proper reparations? Would his people really have the patience and discipline without him to try and forgive Tarn?

Who would take care of Jan, if Star Saber was gone? Star Saber knew, as well as Deathsaurus and anyone else did, that he would be killed if he ever surrendered to the Decepticons.

“Optimus Prime would do it,” Tarn taunted.

Deathsaurus couldn’t help a laugh. The thought was comical— because even if Star Saber said yes, he could hear in Tarn’s voice that he wasn’t beyond slaughtering the rest of the Autobots where they stood the moment Star Saber made the mistake of saying yes and turning himself in to him.

“Come on, Star Saber,” he dared to add. “Aren’t you the paragon of honour you keep saying you are?”

He could see such _fury_ in his nemesis’ eyes. It thrilled him. For all of Star Saber’s dignity, his supposed strong sense of justice, there was still a part of him that was just as hungry for blood as Deathsaurus was. Even if he insisted it wasn’t there. Even if he claimed that he fought so that, one day, no one else would need to fight again.

Star Saber slowly raised his sword again, preparing for combat. Tarn, pleased, returned to Deathsaurus’ side.

“I am Decepticon to my core,” Tarn said, raising and charging his double-cannon. “And I am loyal to my Emperor.”

*

Victory Leo had succeeded over Liokaiser at the last moment, thanks to a distraction by the Multiforce. He’d then promptly gone to Star Saber’s side and combined with him, and their fused might as Victory Saber forced Tarn and Deathsaurus to flee. And yet, Tarn felt none of the gnawing anxiety that had plagued him during his previous failure, not when Deathsaurus held him close to his side on the way back to the base and berated Leozack for not keeping focus during the fight, and not when Tigerbreast made a bed of his lap as if he belonged there.

The DJD weren’t happy about losing, but that was alright. They could be satisfied with remaining valued Decepticon forces rather than treated like potential threats due to the machinations of a greedy scientist. Besides, Deathsaurus promised them plenty of more work, since they were such effective warriors. After all, he still had a fortress locked away in the Nebula to be freed, and once that was done, there was _nothing_ Star Saber could do to stop him.

“ _Us_ ,” Deathsaurus had corrected afterwards, gazing into Tarn’s eyes.

And Tarn cursed his mask, that his Emperor couldn’t see him smile.


	7. Restraint/Reward

**RESTRAINT/REWARD**

Deathsaurus didn’t usually find himself in a good mood after a defeat. He supposed he’d gotten the bulk of his agitation out, throwing it at Leozack, but really— his heart hadn’t been in it. It was hard to explain why, exactly, and he supposed that it was the partial victory of Star Saber’s troops being reduced yet again, so quickly after the battle outside of Charr. It might have also been the mech pressed up to his side on the way back.

More likely, though, it was a combination of those factors and the fact that, thanks to the presence of the DJD, they would be able to steal all the energy in the world and Star Saber would have little means of stopping them. He was closer now to victory than he’d been the first time the Breastforce had been able to form Liokaiser, and Liokaiser had wiped the floor with Star Saber… at least, the first time.

There was a very real possibility that Star Saber would quickly grow accustomed to fighting the DJD as well, but sheer numbers were still going to make it tricky for him. And besides, Deathsaurus planned to act quickly, before any of Star Saber’s people could recover. He would hit the most productive energy plants across the planet, and with the Autobots in no shape to spread themselves out so thinly, they would never be able to put a dent in his efforts, much less prevent the revival of his fortress.

Victory was so close he could taste it, and it was what he deserved. He had fought hard, worked hard, done his time for thousands of years, suffering the incompetence of so many before him— those who failed to conquer just _one_ measly little planet. But he was better than that.

A work of art only took chipping bits at a time, after all. He’d earned a celebration.

He called Tarn to his throne room to meet with him, alone. He had him to thank for it, after all. And Tarn approached with all of his usual poise, asking, “What is it you needed of me, my Lord?”

From his throne, Deathsaurus leaned forward casually. “I want to offer you something, Tarn. But first, for the record… what do you think of me?”

The question seemed to surprise Tarn. “Think of you…? Surely you know full well that you’re… perhaps the best leader the Decepticons have ever known.”

“Oh, of course I know that.” Deathsaurus had no qualms about admitting that. “I’ve made my entire career out of avoiding the mistakes of my predecessors. I’m not asking in a professional setting. I mean, _personally_.”

Tarn didn’t respond. Deathsaurus saw his shoulders tense, as though he wasn’t sure how he was meant to answer the question— what was acceptable, after all, before the Emperor?

“Don’t be scared,” Deathsaurus purred. “I want the honest truth of the matter— if you want me to ask more bluntly, are you interested in me, _romantically_?”

Tarn’s head tilted down, shamefully, but his eyes held Deathsaurus’ gaze. There was a moment more of hesitance, but this time, he chose to speak.

“… Y… yes. It’s presumptuous of me to have these feelings, but… yes.” Tarn’s hands moved from behind his back to fidgeting in front. “You’re perhaps the most handsome, clever and charming mech I’ve ever met.”

“Good. Because I quite like you, too.” Deathsaurus leaned back in his seat and crooked his finger in invitation. “Come here, Tarn— and take off your mask.”

Tarn didn’t hesitate to obey, though his fingers moved slowly on the clasps. Deathsaurus wondered, in the short time that Tarn had owned his once-new body, he’d ever had the chance to take it off— or if he had trouble remembering how to do it after forty years of stasis.

He got his answer as the mask was untucked from Tarn’s chin guard and lowered in his hands. While forty years had made it a bit of a fumble, the more important fact was that in the brief time he had spent before his punishment, his mission had resulted in a nasty scar— exposed circuitry all across half of his face. He supposed if Prime’s cruel shunning hadn’t done in Damus’ opinion of Autobots and their leadership, whatever had caused that scar surely had.

But as he’d said on the battlefield, none of that mattered now. Not as Tarn approached, mask in hand, his face bared for Deathsaurus to admire.

“I have two ideas in mind for you,” he explained. “One, I grant you rank in reward for your hard work, and no one will ever have the authority to put you under again. Your DJD granted safety by a higher place on the totem pole. _Or_ … I can give you a less conventional place to have that same security, though it may leave me more reluctant to put you out on the battlefield. That is, you become my consort. On a trial basis, to be sure we continue working well together, before I make you my second spouse. The choice is yours.”

Deathsaurus took the mask from Tarn and took him by the hand, bringing him close the way he had on the shuttle to Charr the last time— pulling him in such that Tarn was best off sitting right in his lap, and Tarn quickly made himself comfortable there. This time, with the wide open space for Deathsaurus to spread his wings as wide as he liked, and no Autobots directly behind them to watch out for, Deathsaurus could be at ease as well.

“I think,” Tarn murmured, running his hand along Deathsaurus’ chest, “I might like that second reward you’ve offered me.”

Deathsaurus grinned widely. “I was _hoping_ you’d pick that one.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Tarn’s.

Scarred as they were, they still tasted so sweet. Tarn melted against him, humming into their kiss. Deathsaurus tossed the mask behind the throne and wrapped his other hand around Tarn’s waist.

For now, Deathsaurus could set aside any thoughts of the current war. Enough about Star Saber, enough about the state of his Fortress, enough about the history of the Decepticon Empire. For the moment, he had a gorgeous tank settled against him, and that tank seemed just as eager to be in his company.

Deathsaurus turned them around, allowing Tarn the seat without separating from him. Tarn’s arms wrapped around his neck, and Deathsaurus quickly decided that he was going to have to take the rest of the day off.

*

“Hey, I’m not happy about what Tarn did, either. But should you really go picking a fight with someone you _know_ you can’t beat?”

“I’m sick of him getting the Emperor’s praise! He’s barely done anything, and Deathsaurus is just _spoiling_ that masked freak!”

Lyzack followed behind her brother, careful not to let Solon slip off of her shoulder. She hadn’t exactly been eager to let the Emperor’s son sit in on Leozack’s ranting, not when she knew Solon wouldn’t hesitate to taunt Leozack about ‘Did you and Hellbat really think the Autobots would convince Tarn or the Emperor’ and ‘your jealousy issues aren’t anyone else’s problems’. But, well, it wasn’t like Solon was _wrong_ about these things.

Still, while Leozack was in the business of trying to win prestige for himself, Lyzack was in charge of damage control. Her brother wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t exactly have a voice in his head to tell him when he was getting ahead of himself. So she followed him on his way to the throne room,

“It’s a matter of time, sis,” Leozack continued. “Matter of time before I get screwed over because of him. I don’t know if he wants my rank as second-in-command or wants to totally elevate his DJD above the Breastforce, but I’m not letting it happen!”

“Aren’t you being paranoid? Tarn seems concerned about what the Emperor thinks of him, but I don’t know if it’s wholly professional. I mean… You saw how he was cozied up to him when they got back to base, right?”

“I think he’s just trying to show off how much the Emperor likes him. Hellbat seems pretty sure of it. And if _I_ get knocked down, so does the rest of our team. And _you_.” Leozack paused to put a hand on Lyzack’s shoulder (the one Solon wasn’t sitting on). “I know he’s not always the most reliable, but he’s not wrong that it’s suspicious that Deathsaurus called for a private meeting with Tarn.”

Lyzack had no retort for that.

As they approached the throne room doors, they could hear faint, nondescript sound coming from inside regardless. Too muffled to make out, but it must have been loud, to be heard this far away from the throne itself and through the solid soundproofing. Leozack put an audial to the doors, but it didn’t seem to help much, and pulled back.

“You see? I bet that’s what their meeting is about.” Leozack grabbed a hold of the door handle, preparing to swing it open. “And I’m _not_ giving up what dignity I have left!”

He threw open the door to the throne room. Lyzack, realizing what was _actually_ happening in there, raised her hand to block Solon’s sight of it.

A couple of seconds later, Leozack suddenly pulled back and shut the doors as quietly as he could, his face bright red. Solon raised an eyebrow as the leader of the Breastforce spun around on his heel, marched away from the throne room, and suddenly corrected both his tone and his attitude: “Yeah, no, everything’s fine in there. Congratulations on the new stepfather, by the way.”

Solon cracked up, and Lyzack watched her brother go. She was just impressed that he hadn’t gotten himself caught, accidentally peeping at… well, _Tarn’s warm and belated welcome back party_ , she guessed. Poor Leozack was going to have to awkwardly explain to the others that he no longer suspected Tarn of anything, _before_ Deathsaurus made the official announcement of Tarn’s apparent new position in the Empire.

“Hey, Lyzack,” Solon said. “You think your brother’s learned his lesson this time?”

“About listening to Hellbat, or about generally starting trouble because he constantly needs to impress people?”

“All of the above.”

“Pfft, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this was late again, and again-- not my best work. But I'm glad I got it done, and thank you so much for reading!


End file.
